


Personal Constellations

by miss_nettles_wife



Category: The Doctor Blake Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Mentioned Character Death, Past Fire, Swearing, burnt out buildings, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 20:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13419078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife
Summary: His father used to tell him that when people died, stars were how they looked down at you from heaven. As childish as it is, Charlie still finds comfort in assigning stars to his absent friends.





	Personal Constellations

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my reaction/vent fic to do with recent events. I might have missed the bus a little on this one, but I needed to write something like this. Hopefully now I can get back to writing my other stuff. As far as this fic goes, it’s not the fairest fic to Lucien, but it was written to vent so I’m sure you can all understand. You can read with or without ship goggles, this is not a fic written about a ship. I hope you’re all doing okay *hugs*

From where he was standing, Charlie couldn’t see any constellations he recognized. Not that he’d ever really been able to see them, despite his mothers' insistence that the jumble of stars that twinkled up over their heads were actually composed of pictures and meanings. That had never stopped him from trying though.

When he was a young boy, and his grandfather died, his father told him that when people die, they go to heaven, and stars are just them looking down, to make sure you’re okay. He believed it avidly for years and unquestionly went with his mother to star gaze in their tiny, browned and unloved back garden. He was looking for his grandfather, or his dog, or Uncle Ray who never made it back from the war. Wasn’t until he was a teenager when he realized that it was probably just his father trying to get him to shut up and let his mother star gaze in peace.

“I brought food!” Danny announced from behind him. Charlie took his eyes off the hole in the roof and turned to smile at him. Danny had three newspaper-wrapped packages of fish and chips in his arms, and put them on the blanket that had been spread out over the ashy floorboards to prevent it from transferring to his tan pants. Charlie shot one last look up at the sky, then walked over to join Danny by the fireplace. He can no longer smell the perpetually damp wood and ash over the smell of freshly fried fish, lemon, and chips.

“And I brought the grog!” Another voice announced, as Mattie slid around the corner, arms full of ancient looking bottles and decanters. “No glasses, though. Sorry.”

“We’ll live,” Charlie said, reaching for the chips as Danny unrolled them. Danny slapped his hand away and they both laughed at the incredibly domestic action. Mattie took a sip from a bottle of something that apparently had almonds in it. She made a face, but took a second sip anyway.

“We’re not fancy people.” Danny agreed, as he unwrapped the grease-stained paper. The smeared ink and translucent paper reminds him of the stained glass window in the back of his mothers' wedding pictures.

With the paper finally unraveled, Charlie took a couple of chips and dropped them into his mouth. Hot and oily; maybe a little too hot. But good. He’s never been one for indulging in take away food, but hot chips are hard for anyone to resist. Just the right amount of salt, too. Danny must have gone to the little place near the hotel. Danny eats quickly, not bothering to close his mouth when he chewed or swallow before speaking. It should be disgusting, but he actually finds it charming.

While they ate, Charlie’s eyes drifted over the fire-damaged bedroom they were seated in. He had not spent much time in here, pre and post renovations.  Prior to the fire, Charlie hadn’t spent much time at the house at all. He’d been busy, in his defense.  Training, working, looking after Ray’s baby, trying to hold his family together as best he could after his mother died. He didn’t even see the blaze as it happened, just got the panicked call from Rose in the early hours of the morning begging him to come home.

He remembered kneeling next to an equally distraught and dirty Danny looking at the ashes of his room for his father’s lucky pen, or sitting next to Jean while she collected bent spoon and melted forks on a sheet and told him the stories behind every mismatched piece of cutlery. He drove a ute with a burnt out piano and the antique table to the storage unit. He worked himself to the bone, helping at the station when he could and skipping sleep to help cover what they could with tarps to save what they could from the rain.

Perhaps it was his desire for absolution that drove him here. Church confessionals not enough to ease his mind, or to stop the ache. Maybe he just wanted to relive the glory days of his youth, listening to Matthew tell stories about his war service over a half drunk glass of whiskey. Or cooking with Jean in the kitchen, laughing over the sound of the radio and trading tips for the perfect potatoes or roasts. Sitting with Alice at the kitchen table when she wasn’t meant to be there in the wee hours of the morning, not speaking, but knowing. Spending his nights with Rose, who was easier to get drunk off of than any spirt he’d ever tried. Having one-ups with Danny in the living room as their relationship evolved and devolved from friends to almost lovers to friends again. The good old days; no one tells you that they’re the good old days when they’re happening.

No one told him that he’d spend the rest of his life chasing the high of solving a crime and coming home to the people he genuinely considered his family.

Or how much it was going to ache when it became apparent that he could never reach it, not with someone so vital to the success of it was…Well. That didn’t matter. At the very least, it didn’t matter right now.

“I hope you have enough for another.” Said a fourth voice. Charlie looked up, surprised to see the owner. She looked impeccable, as always.

“We do.” Charlie nodded. Alice held a small paper-wrapped parcel out to him.

“I got you a housewarming gift.” She said, then sat next to Mattie on the blanket. Charlie peeled the paper away, and was pleasantly surprised to see a plain metal plaque underneath.

‘Chief Superintendent C. Davis

Chief Inspector D. Parks

Doctor. A. L. Harvey’

“So that’s a yes, then?” Charlie asked, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

“It is.” She said. Danny beamed at her, and Mattie offered her a mouthful of the almond drink, which she refused.

The fire crackled abrasively, and it cast a wavy yellow light on their faces.

Despite himself, Charlie is reminded of sitting by the fire with the Doc. His Doc. The one before all of that stuff happened that ruined everything. It’s the only way he can reconcile it with himself. His Doc, and Lucien Blake. Two separate pieces of the same whole. He could despise and condemn one of them as much as his heart desired, and he could love the other one as truly as he was able. He thinks about the feeling of the Doc’s hand on his knee, telling him that he wasn’t broken, or bad, or somehow morally unclean. Trading amusing stories about the station, or about their day. Or sometime, they’d just listen to an old record that played music Charlie didn’t know but liked purely on the basis that the Doc said it was good.

God; what he wouldn’t give for just one more minute of that.

To time travel back to a place where all of this shit hasn’t happened, and no one has come forward with anything and he feels happy and awake and alive. Where he hasn’t held Jean while she cried herself to sleep, and he hasn’t had to arrest his closest friend. Where things are good. Where he hasn’t spent years trying to outrun his anger and sadness. Where is unaware of just how little he actually knows about Lucien Blake.

If he could pick one single moment and just feel like that for a single, golden moment, he’d pick the one where and the Doc sat out on the porch, and Charlie told his constellation theory and they picked out a star for Ned, and Munro, and Matthew (who got a set of three) and all their other absent friends. He cannot think of a moment in which he felt warmer and more comfortable than that night.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Mattie.

“No. Not yet.” He said, eyes drifting to her fire bathed face. In this light, her flyaway hairs look like a fairy crown.  Wouldn’t that be perfect? A fairy crown for a woman he still is not convinced isn’t an escaped fae or runaway princess. She gave him a little nod, and then looked back to the fire and conversations.

Charlie reached out for the bottle Danny was drinking from, and chased down a mouthful of fish. He’s never liked fish much, but the saying that everything tastes better fried didn’t exist for no reason. He looked up as another pair of feet crossed the threshold into the little space.

Rose was standing there, holding up the hem of her bell bottom pants to stop them dragging in the ash.

“So Christopher finally sold it to you, then?” Charlie looked up, and gave her a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“He did.”

“Rose! Sit down!” Danny said, pleasantly. Over the years, he’d drifted away from her, after their last attempt at dating had sailed steadily south. Rose eyed the motley crew, sitting on their blankets and towels, drinking without glasses and eating with their fingers, and perhaps smartly, declined. There was always a disconnect between them these days. She was the media, they were the cops. She called it a conflict of interest.

Charlie stood, and walked over to see her. She looked up at the hole in the ceiling at the stars.

“Is it safe to have a fire in there?”

“What’s it gonna burn?” She seemed a little a distracted. Probably work.

“People think you’re mad.”

“People can think what they want.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Foundation’s still good.”

“So you’re going to what? Rebuild?”

“Yup. And then we’re going to live here, me and Danny. And Alice, and Ray and my niece and anyone else who wants to.”

“That’s what all this is about? Togetherness? That’s very Lucien of you.” If she notices him wince, she says nothing.

“Look around, Rose. Everything’s gone. Jean, the Doc, Matthew, Ned, they’re gone. The good old days? They’re gone. When I’m on my way to see them, I won’t be thinking about that two bedroom townhouse or nice car. I promise you that. It’s all just crap, and I can’t take it with me when I go. But memories and the good times? I can keep that forever.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

“Sure. Come sit, the food’s still hot.” Rose looked over his shoulder and then shook her head.

“I need to get home. Good luck, Charlie.”

“There’s a place here for you. If you want it.” He said, touching her arm briefly and then pulling his hand away. “Have a good night.” She smiled at him, and turned, her coat billowing out like the wedding dress she threw into Lake Wendouree. Charlie watched her leave, and the walked back over to his friends and dropped beside Danny, who casually threw an arm around him and offered another sip of his drink.

…

Eventually, the party split up. Mattie went home to Joe, Alice when back to her flat. Charlie and Danny remained. They stood out by the fence,  the last undamaged piece of the original house, and Danny hung up the new nameplate. The old one was finally taken down (not that it mattered, someone, probably Danny, thought no one had ever confessed) had long since scratched out the previous name.

With the final screw in place, Danny stood back to admire his work, and pull Charlie flush against his side. Danny was a lot more touchy-feely than Charlie was, but right now his chest feels like it’s full of helium and clouds so he doesn’t bother to tell him to shove off.

“What do you think?”

“I like it.”

They spent a moment longer looking at it. Charlie turned his eyes to the sky to seek out the trio of stars that had been given to Matthew. He found them quickly, and considered sending him a little prayer. Danny noticed and followed his eye line.

“Which one is the Boss, again?”

“Those three,” Charlie said, pointing. Danny nodded, and licked the remains of salt off the corner of his lip.

“Ned’s that one to the left, right?”

“Hm.”

“Which one have you given to Aunty Jean?”

“I haven’t given anyone anything, it’s just a stupid, childish-“

“It’s not stupid or childish if it matters to you.” Danny cut in, well-meaning if a little drunk.

“That one, see that bright one? Actually, it might be a planet.”

“Planet Jean? I like that.”

“The food is never poorly cooked, and tea bags grow on trees.” He said, as they moved closer, even in the moderate heat. Danny looked back up, smiling slightly.

“And which one is his?” He who shall not be named; the ghost of an old friend. It’s as though a damp blanket is thrown over them and Charlie pulls away.

“He doesn’t have one.”

“Why not?”

 “Why the Hell do you think?” Danny looked back at him, and then looked at his ash-covered pants (Charlie will neither confirm nor deny that there was dancing this evening)

“Sometimes I wish I could turn it off.”

“I’m not your priest, if you want to tell me something, say it, you bastard.” It’s warm, no malice behind his words.

“I still love him. I wish I could just stop, but I can’t. Not when there were so many good times.” Which there were. Good times, that is. “I wish I was more like you. Just…Never letting shit get to me. Looking down onto mere mortals with their mortal problems.”

“Is that what you think I do?” He asked, sounding more amused then he intended.

“Feels like it, sometimes.”

“I brought his burnt out house. Do you think I would have done that if I didn’t, on some level, still care about him?” Danny does not reply. “I thought you were the one who moved on. God, Danny. Every single day of my rotten life I want to go back to a time I didn’t know and spend time with him.”

“He was my uncle.”

“I know.”

“I loved him. He made her so happy.”

“I know.”

“She was never the same.”

“No one was.”

“I miss her so much.” Charlie, unable to watch someone cry in the street stepped forward and offered Danny a side hug. He’s never been that great with emotions, but this he understands.

“We all do.” He hadn’t realized, until then, how deep the hole that they left in his life really was. How much he missed them all. “You’ll see her again someday.” Danny sniffed.

“I heard what you said to Rose, about everyone being gone.”

“We’ll see them again.” He said, as they stood for a while longer.

“We don’t have to forgive him, or condone what he did.”

“No.”

“Can we still give him a star?”

“Pick one.” Danny looked up at the sky, every star in the sky twinkles.

“That one.” He said, pointing at the small star right near the Southern Cross.

“That’ll be his, then.” Charlie released Danny from his grip, and they started the walk to Charlie’s beat up old car to drive back to the tiny little flat they had closer to the station.

The future feels as bright as the stars were.


End file.
